


Dark Is What I Want

by Oodles



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Forgive Me, M/M, There is a lot of blood, like a lot of blood, problematic lube strats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oodles/pseuds/Oodles
Summary: He's kept him waiting long enough.





	Dark Is What I Want

Gascoigne is too warm, blood on his face, electrified from the fight. He turns to see Henryk finishing off the last of the horde of beasts. A knife through the eye, the cleaver to the neck, and the beast falls. Watching Henryk move so fast is mesmerizing. Gascoigne always loved watching him fight. It doesn’t make the cool down easier though.

Henryk wrenches his weapon from the corpse and turns to Gascoigne, eyes bright. Gascoigne likes the thought that maybe Henryk is as riled up as he is, but the other hunter never seems affected by that kind of bloodlust. He keeps it all buttoned up, literally and figuratively. It makes Gascoigne wonder why the man partnered with him in the first place.

“Good fight,” Gascoigne says.

Henryk walks over to him, collapsing the cleaver and pulling his facemask off. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“You did well,” Gascoigne tells him, setting his axe on the ground like a walking stick.

Henryk is close enough that Gascoigne can hear him trying to catch his breath, and he can smell the blood on him. The other hunter is staring at Gascoigne, and something is different about him. He rarely takes the mask off while they’re out like this, and his eyes carry something in them that gets Gascoigne’s blood rushing. Must be the adrenaline.

“Something wrong?” Gascoigne asks.

Henryk pulls back the bottom of his coat to reveal a tear in his trousers along the thigh, the fabric stained dark. “Got a little scratch. Not a big deal.”

“That’s what that smell is,” Gascoigne says, perhaps a bit too breathy.

Henryk glances up at him once before covering it up again.

“You should treat that as soon as you can. God only knows what those things carry.”

“I have supplies with me,” Henryk says. “Can you keep watch while I take care of it?”

“’Course,” Gascoigne says, turning his gaze to the rest of the aqueduct. They had followed a scent down here and found a whole awful gathering of monsters. Henryk limps toward the wall, and it’s clear he’s hurting. Gascoigne quickly loops an arm around the other hunter’s waist to support him. Henryk doesn’t fight it, just leans into him. Gascoigne takes a breath. Henryk’s blood is like the sweet-smelling smoke drifting through the air.

Henryk braces himself on the wall and Gascoigne helps him down onto the ground. Henryk lets out a sigh, shutting his eyes.

“Damn claws got me good,” he says, voice a little unsteady.

Gascoigne brushes Henryk’s coat away so he can take a look. It’s still bleeding.

“Do you have something to bind it with?”

Henryk shakes his head, eyes still shut, head tipped back. “It burns.”

“Antiseptic?” Gascoigne asks.

Henryk reaches into one of his pouches, producing a small phial of clear liquid. Gascoigne pops it open and recoils from the sharp, awful scent.

“Hate this stuff,” Gascoigne mutters.

“Hey,” Henryk starts and takes another deep breath.

Gascoigne stares at him as Henryk opens his eyes again to look at Gascoigne.

“I don’t know everything about what’s happening to you,” he says. “But I know that look. “

Gascoigne goes still.

Henryk stares back. “You want the blood, don’t you?”

Gascoigne’s eyes widen for a second.

“Have it,” Henryk says. He reaches up and takes Gascoigne’s hat off. “It’s not doing me any good now.”

Gascoigne tries not to let his breathing get too heavy. “Are you sure?” His voice is getting deeper.

Henryk nods, no doubt in his eyes.

Gascoigne struggles to keep it together, swallowing through a now dry throat. He holds Henryk’s gaze as he lowers his head down until he has to look away, coming face to face with the fresh wound. The sight of the red slash on Henryk’s dark skin is far too exciting. It’s like a head rush and Gascoigne’s manners and reason begin to fall away. He puts a hand on Henryk’s thigh above the wound and squeezes to help stop the blood flow. Henryk makes a little noise at the pressure. As calmly as he can, Gascoigne leans down to lick the wound.

That first taste hits his tongue and he sighs into it. Better than beast blood by far. It tastes alive— sweet and dark like wine, with some undercurrent that he’s never tasted before, warm and a little overwhelming. He wants more so he pulls back and widens the tear in Henryk’s pants.

“Good, huh?” Henryk asks with a small laugh.

Gascoigne just makes a satisfied noise as he licks the broken skin. He is not expecting a hand laid gently on the top of his head, fingers running through his hair. Gascoigne shudders with the softness of it, heat sweeping over him.

“I feel strange,” Henryk goes on. “I… don’t think I should like this.”

His voice is a bit breathy. Gascoigne wants to rip open the wound and bleed Henryk dry, but he also wants to pin him to the wall and run his tongue over every inch of skin, blood or no. He’s getting hard at the thought. He knows he should probably stop, but Henryk is still encouraging him with his hand. Henryk sounds like he’s still out of breath, and it’s getting worse. Gascoigne begins inching his right hand up Henryk’s leg.

Henryk’s own hand snaps down on top of Gascoigne’s and Gascoigne expects a scolding. What he gets is Henryk quickly dragging his hand up to the warmth between his legs. Gascoigne growls as Henryk rubs Gascoigne’s hand into himself, gasping out a small curse.

Gascoigne tongues at Henryk’s wound, not caring anymore. All he wants now is Henryk in a state and more of those noises he’s making.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you,” Henryk says.

Gascoigne snaps. He pulls back from the blood and grabs Henryk by the thighs, hauling him away from the wall. Gascoigne crawls over him and presses his face to Henryk’s trousers, feeling out how hard he is. Brushing his mouth against Henryk through his pants, neither of them caring about the blood on his lips.

This time when Henryk touches Gascoigne’s hair, he grips it hard. “Do it.”

Gascoigne scrabbles at the buttons, desperate for it now. Henryk is panting in anticipation. Gascoigne can’t help but laugh, exposing Henryk.

“I should be the one panting like a wolf.” He runs his tongue up the length of Henryk, savoring the taste.

“You’re the animal who’s making me wait,” Henryk says, voice laced with pent up desire.

As much as Gascoigne likes the thought of playing around with Henryk, getting him worked up even more, he can’t help himself. He grips Henryk’s cock with one hand and does what he wants with his mouth, tonguing at every part, even just a little nip, drawing out moans from Henryk and feeling Henryk’s legs squeezing his sides.

Another curse from Henryk before he speaks, “good.”

Gascoigne lifts his head, breathing in the scent of Henryk. “Sorry I kept you waiting. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Henryk picks his head up to meet Gascoigne’s gaze. “Take your gauze off.”

Gascoigne stares for a second before reaching up to pull the wraps from his eyes. Henryk finds the black eyes of some half-turned beast looking back at him. He knew Gascoigne had this in him, but he didn’t know how deep it ran. Those eyes filled with hunger make Henryk want to let Gascoigne do whatever he wants, no matter the blood spilled.

Gascoigne sees it, the willingness. It goes past the usual arousal, thick into his blood, and pushes at the beast inside. He can feel his entire body reacting, threatening to change. Gascoigne gets to his knees and starts hurriedly undoing his trousers just enough to show himself to Henryk.

Henryk’s breath is a little hitched. “Come here.”

Gascoigne bares his teeth, and climbs on top of Henryk, grinding their hips together. He reaches between them to take both of them in one hand, the friction going from dry to wet quickly.

“Let me have you,” Gascoigne says, voice husky in Henryk’s ear, voice even deeper from the changing.

“Yes,” Henryk tells him, legs wrapped around Gascoigne.

Gascoigne sets sharpened incisors on Henryk’s neck, scraping harmlessly along his skin. “Let me bite you.” His voice is distorted, dark and ragged.

“ _Yes_.” Henryk arches his back as Gascoigne works them together.

Gascoigne sinks his teeth into Henryk’s shoulder and Henryk cries out from the shock of it. It pushes him so close to the edge, he digs his nails into Gascoigne’s neck, pressing the man in closer, relishing the feel of Gascoigne lapping up his blood. To feed him in more ways than one. When Gascoigne has his fill, he presses his stained mouth to Henryk’s, forcing him to drink his own blood. Henryk kisses him back, fierce. When Gascoigne starts to pull back, Henryk bites his bottom lip so hard Gascoigne grunts a little, and a bit of red wells up. Henryk licks it off him, wanting the even exchange. Gascoigne smiles, splitting his lip even more.

“Look at you,” Gascoigne says. “Hungry as I am.”

Henryk draws him into a deep kiss, before asking, “You gonna get me off or not?”

Gascoigne lets them both go in order to grab Henryk and flip him onto his stomach. “You asked,” he says, lips on Henryk’s ear.

Gascoigne is rough. He wastes no time shedding his and Henryk’s clothes, giving Henryk their coats to lay on, and breaking open the oil he uses to light lamps. Henryk bites Gascoigne’s scarf as the older hunter opens him up, panting in his ear all the things he’s thought about doing to Henryk since the first time he saw him hunt.

“Sometimes I don’t know if I want to bleed you or fuck you.”

Henryk lifts his head to look at Gascoigne. “Guess the answer’s both.”

Gascoigne laughs. “Always has been. Get on your knees.”

Henryk does and Gascoigne shoves him up against the wall, giving Henryk no time to acclimate before Gascoigne is shoving inside him. His hands on Henryk’s hips go savage with the feeling, nails shifting into claws, drawing more blood. Henryk is starting to go lightheaded from the cuts and the intense pressure of Gascoigne rocking his hips faster and faster. Darkness edges into his vision, parts of him going numb and other parts lighting up with feeling. He can’t control his voice, words and sounds spilling out of him, bracing himself as best he can against the wall. Gascoigne is caught between a guttural growl and a moan, months of reigning himself in finally coming to a head, drowning in the knowledge that Henryk wants him as badly as he wants Henryk.

They sound like beasts down in the tunnels, tearing each other apart.

Gascoigne grips Henryk’s cock with blood-slicked hands, carelessly working him until Henryk can barely breathe right. It’s like sinking and rising at once, pulling him apart until he finally comes with a shout, all the fight leaving his body, wanting to collapse on the ground, but Gascoigne still has him, fucking him like it’s keeping him alive. The feeling of Henryk coming in Gascoigne’s hand, the hunter mindless and utterly spent, is too much for Gascoigne. Knowing he’s got Henryk feeling like this, knowing he’s got Henryk _at all_ , has Gascoigne unwinding inside him, voice quieting and body shifting back to human. Henryk goes limp against Gascoigne, no energy left to hold himself up. Gascoigne gathers him up, laying him back down on the coats.

Despite his own exhaustion, Gascoigne wordlessly picks up where Henryk left off, treating the wounds with antiseptic and binding them as best he can. Henryk’s eyes are closed, chest rising and falling quickly. When he’s done, Gascoigne half dresses himself and pulls Henryk against him, nuzzling his face, occasionally brushing his lips over Henryk’s skin until the other man’s breathing settles and he opens his eyes again.

“You okay?” Gascoigne asks.

Henryk shuffles closer, pressing their mouths together, sighing a little when Gascoigne licks Henryk’s lips to get him to open his mouth so he can kiss him deeper. They settle together as the high fades and their hearts stop pounding.

“Naked in the sewers isn’t my ideal state, but, yes— I’m okay,” Henryk finally says.

“Next time we’ll go somewhere nice,” Gascoigne says, lowering his voice. “Like a graveyard or the woods.”

Henryk gives a tired laugh. “Read my mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Henryk Friend!


End file.
